


keep moving

by eerian_sadow



Series: Rare Pairing pieces [5]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Community: tf_rare_pairing, Gen, Grief, Hangover, Illness, Post-Canon, Substance Abuse, Vomiting, unpretty body functions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-30
Updated: 2011-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 04:44:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2216280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a rough night out, Jazz comforts Optimus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	keep moving

**Author's Note:**

> written for the June 26th Resurrection Sunday round at tf_rare_pairing. It’s not exactly where I had intended it to go. *shrug*

Optimus woke to a myriad of warnings on his heads-up display, a violently aching processor and a hand rubbing soothingly--or at least he thought it was supposed to be soothing--over his back plates. His fuel takes felt overfull and strained and his internals were trying to convince him it was a good idea to purge at least some of their contents. He was pretty sure things were spinning, too, though he couldn’t remember having moved anywhere.

“Take it easy, OP. You had some night.”

He knew that voice. “Jazz. What did I do last night?”

“Oh not much, mech.” Carefully, Jazz tipped him upright, which didn’t really help the dizziness but did give him a better point of reference so that he knew where he really was. “Just drank half of Team Athenia under the table before you passed out in my lap.”

“I… what?” Optimus was sure he had heard the other mech correctly, but it was pretty hard to believe. He _didn’t drink_ high grade, and he certainly didn’t do it around other people.

“Hey, I don’t know how it started. Red Alert gave me a call when Rodimus started getting too friendly with you.” Jazz looked him over critically. “You were already pretty trashed when I got there, OP.”

“Ohhhh….” the prime winced when the ninja brought up Rodimus. He had vague memories of a very flamboyantly painted mech climbing into his lap at one point in the night. He had been _very_ persistent in perusing Optimus’ affections the entire time he’d been at the bar.

The bar. Where he had gone to get away from everyone and forget about everything that had happened on Earth for a while--and apparently succeeded. Every feeling he had been bottling up inside rushed forward at the memory and made his fuel tanks roil with the feedback from his emotional subroutines.

With a groan, Optimus tipped forward and purged on the ground in front of them.

“Nice.” Jazz said dryly. “Next time warn a mech when you’re gonna mess up his floor.”

“Sorry.” He wasn’t sure he was entirely sorry, though. His tanks did feel a bit better now. “How did I get to your quarters?”

“I know a shuttle. Wasn’t hard to convince her to do me a favor.” Jazz helped Optimus sit up and lean back again. “So, what were you doing in an oil bar, anyway? Wouldn’t have thought it was your scene.”

The younger mech started to shake his head, but stopped when his processor throbbed--and how did a system with no real pain receptors throb, anyway?--in protest. “I just… I needed an escape. It was all too much.”

Once he was sure Optimus was settled Jazz stood up and moved to a cabinet to retrieve a cloth and cleaner. Without looking at the other mech, he knelt down next to the purged energon and began cleaning up the mess. “Yeah, I know what you mean. It ain’t right anymore.”

“What do we do, Jazz?” Optimus asked softly, hoping the older mech had at least a few of the answers.

“Nothing we can do, except keep going.”


End file.
